


Nightmares

by phantom_lycoris



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22087159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantom_lycoris/pseuds/phantom_lycoris
Summary: Barbara has some trouble sleeping, and Tabitha tries to help her out.
Relationships: Tabitha Galavan/Barbara Kean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is my first work in this fandom, and the first time i've ever tried to write either of these characters. so i apologize in advance for how ooc they are ! i feel like i made tabitha a little too soft or fluffy but you know, that's okay. practice makes perfect, right? also i uh. came up with this laying in bed at 11:30 last night with a cold so

It is 5:00 in the morning when Barbara Kean is forcibly wrenched from the realm of slumber.  
She bolts upright in bed with blond hair plastered to her forehead, gripping the sheets, knuckles white from the tension. Blue eyes dart from one corner of the room to the other before she shakes her head. There is no one there. She is alone. As would be expected.  
Barbara doesn't understand why these nightmares have been haunting her, in the form of visions of her latest victims. She enjoyed killing her parents; the memory is clear as day, and her sole regret is that she didn't torture them more. The feeling of their flesh cleaving so easily below the knife wielded by her own hand had been absolutely sublime. Maybe even freeing. Knowing that finally, the tormentors of her childhood were getting what they deserved. Quid pro quo, eh?  
So she scoffs out loud and lays her head resiliently back down upon the feather-stuffed pillow, turning this way and that for a good fifteen minutes. Despite the determined thoughts of her waking mind, she can't suppress the whispers in the back of her subconscious. And she can't help but admit, she would rather not sit through another dream-session where her mother and father shriek at her with blood dripping down their faces.  
Barbara looks over to the clock settled on the bed-side table. 5:20. She sighs, loudly, and swings her legs over the side of the bed, passing a hand over her eyes. This is really a drag; she'd like to get some decent sleep before, you know, carrying out whatever diabolical plan Theo Galavan has in mind. But it looks like she'll just be wasting time tossing and turning in bed for the next few hours, so she slips off the mattress and stands, shivering at the chill of the floor against the soles of her bare feet. She doubts anyone will be up at this hour, which is all for the better; she really doesn't need Hellzsinger ogling her every other second or Jerome's maniacal cackling in her ear, not right now.  
The blonde pads through the halls of the Galavan Penthouse, brushing stray locks of her bedhead behind her ear as she stretches her arms over her head, letting a yawn slip through her lips. For half a second she considers trying to find and raid the Galavans' stock of wine and drink herself back to sleep, but in the end, she finds her footsteps lead her to the kitchen, so she settles for toast as a poor substitute. She pops the bread into the machine and crosses the room to perch on the end of the dining table, peeking a glance out the huge window. The sun is just creeping over the edge of the horizon, the first light of dawn beginning to kiss the rooftops of Gotham. Barbara swings her right leg back and forth, an ugly glare blemishing her almost delicate features. A long time ago, Barbara- a younger, more innocent Barbara- had thought that Gotham City, despite its obvious flaws, could be beautiful, could be redeemed. Now? Now, she is a new woman, freed and able to think clearly for herself, for the first time in her life. A crooked smirk pulls up the edge of her soft lips as she alights from the table to retrieve her toast. She knows now that the old Gotham is practically a dumpyard. They must destroy it first, and then rebuild from the ashes.  
Barbara sits herself back down on top of the table and spreads raspberry jam on her bread with a few strokes of her butterknife. As she lifts it to her mouth to take a bite, she hears footsteps. She starts to turn her head but there's no need; she recognizes their rhythm, even if they lack the usual clacking sound of the owner's high heeled boots.  
"Hey, Tabby," she mumbles around her mouthful of bread in a tone of affected boredom. She looks, just to be sure she hasn't made a mistake, and it's indeed Tabitha Galavan. The sister of the man who organized this whole thing. She ought to be afraid of Tabitha, especially after having seen the woman kill one of Barbara's own fellow Arkham inmates, but she just can't bring herself to fear her. Especially after they'd had so much fun together whipping up that silly old Mayor James. And she finds she relates to Tabitha too; they're both dangerous in the inside and yet beautiful on the outside.  
"Couldn't sleep?" Tabitha plops down in one of the nearby chairs, winding her finger through her dark hair that hangs loose around her face. Barbara shrugs, taking another bite of toast. As much as she likes Tabby, she has to remind herself that she's only known her for a day or two; she would rather not talk to her about her supposed nightmares just yet. She quickly (and rather tactfully, she thinks with a hint of pride) skirts around the subject.  
"Why are you up?" She widens her pale blue gaze innocently. Tabitha isn't fooled. She laces her fingers, leans forward in her chair. "I heard you get up. What is it?"  
Barbara snorts, pressing the palm of her unoccupied hand to the surface of the table. "What, did you think I was gonna run for it? Were you afraid you'd have to..." She makes a mock cutting gesture across her throat.  
Tabitha's dark brow furrows. "No! No, that's not- I was just a little worried about you."  
"Worried, huh?" Barbara tosses her head, looks down at the assassin. "Why?"  
She enjoys the conflicted expressions crossing Tabitha's face a little too much as she patiently waits for an answer.  
"Does it really matter why?" Tabby huffs with a roll of her dark eyes. "Anyway, the plan won't work without you. If something happened to you..."  
"Is that all?" Barbara moves in a little closer, shimmies along the length of the table until she's on the very edge. Tabitha looks at her for one second, two seconds, then shakes her head and, suddenly, takes Barbara's free hand in her own.  
"Barbara. We're friends, right? Friends care about each other."  
Huh. She didn't expect that. Barbara considers this for a second before she's distracted by the warmth of Tabitha's hands over her own. She would have expected them to be more calloused from all the assassin and gun work she did, but they're smooth and soft to the touch. Barbara lifts her stare to Tabitha's equally unbending scrutiny and then gives in, because she knows she'll be here all morning if she keeps this up.  
"I saw them. You know, my parents." She hasn't told Tabitha personally about the crime she committed that was part of what landed her in Arkham Asylum, but everyone knows that already. No need to restate the obvious. Tabitha bites her lip, cocks her head to the side, and Barbara thinks of how cute she looks in that moment.  
"Your parents. You regret killing them?"  
"No! No, definitely not." She snickers briefly at the thought of that before her face turns grim. "No, it's not regret. But I keep seeing them, Tabby. They're always there. In every dream I have, I see their faces. Their pathetic faces as they scream and cry and _beg _for mercy."  
Tabitha falls silent. Then she squeezes Barbara's fingers that she's still gripping. "Barbara, they were bad people. They deserved everything that they got. You can't let them bother you anymore. Let them go."  
"Let them go?"  
"Let them go," repeats Tabitha, so close to Barbara that the blonde woman can smell the other's scent of leather. Barbara thinks about this. She conjures up the lurid pictures of her mother clawing at her legs, her father screaming as blood spurts from his throat, and she releases them. She murdered them, and now they're gone. They can't hurt her anymore.  
The assassin sees the change for the better in her face, and a half-smile curls up the corner of her mouth. She starts to draw back, but Barbara tugs her back by the hand. Tabitha starts to say something but before Barbara can lose the surge of impulsiveness, she presses her lips to Tabby's. She feels the woman freeze and for a second she thinks, oh God, what did I just do?  
And then Tabitha returns the kiss, winding her arms around Barbara's slender waist. Barbara reaches her own hands around the other's neck and her toasts plummets to the floor, lands jam-side down. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows Theo will probably be pissed if he walks in later to find that, but right now she finds she can't give a shit about Theo, or anyone else except the treasure she has in her arms. Tabitha breaks off the kiss only to say in a suggestive (and slightly breathless) tone, "Bedroom?"  
Barbara allows herself the liberty of a girlish giggle as she agrees, "Bedroom," and lets the Galavan sister whisk her back down the hall.__


End file.
